A Depravity That Can Bear no Comparison
by MorganAW
Summary: Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy had learned her lesson well not to take gossip at face value, particularly if the bearer of the tale was the injured party. So when she heard young Margaret Dashwood's account of her brother's dismissal of their late father's wishes, she made discreet inquiries before taking action.(John and Fanny Dashwood are tried in the court of public opinion) P&P/S&S
1. Chapter 1

**Licensing Note:** The story line and characters are inspired from _Sense and Sensibility_ and _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen. All original content and plot for _A Depravity That Can Bear no Comparison_ is released under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International license by Morgan A. Wyndham. Cross-published on Archive of Our Own by Morgan AW.

**Timeline:** _Sense and Sensibility_ was published in 1811, _Pride and Prejudice_ in 1813. This story takes place during Elizabeth's second London season following her marriage, placing Georgiana Darcy at 18 and Margaret Dashwood at about 17 years old.

* * *

Elizabeth Darcy sighed from the sidelines of the ball where she was once again forced to sit out of the dance. At this stage, however, nobody could accuse her of being slighted by men since she was sitting out on account of her delicate condition. Lady Catherine, no doubt, would scold her for attending the season at such an interesting time, but Georgiana had been so frightened of facing her second season without Elizabeth that she had seen no other option. There would be time enough for her confinement come June. Beside her, Jane looked wistfully at the dancers. Young Master Bingley was nearly two months old, but Jane had suffered a lingering ailment following his birth and had not yet fully recovered her strength. Elizabeth had finally cajoled her into attending Lady Matlock's ball that evening by reminding her that they would be old married ladies together from the sidelines.

"I am glad we were able to convince Charles and Darcy to dance at last, just because we are unable to enjoy the dancing does not mean that they must be denied the pleasure," Jane said placidly.

Elizabeth laughed, "I'm not certain my husband would consider it a pleasure, but at least he's dancing with Georgiana." Their husbands had thus far spent most of the evening at their sides and Elizabeth was unsure that she'd be able to convince Darcy to dance with anyone other than their sisters – who were in short supply and limited only to Georgiana, Kitty, and Jane that evening.

Jane sighed whistfully again as she scanned the line of dancers. Jane loved to dance and while she would never say so aloud, this forced inaction was trying. "How pretty Miss. Dashwood looks this evening," Jane idly commented as her gaze settled on the lively young lady dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"Yes, I believe my cousin would wholeheartedly agree with you!" Lizzy replied lightheartedly.

"Oh! They would make a marvelous match, she once spent nearly half an hour explaining some military strategy or another to me at a garden party."

Lizzy looked again at the pair, who were deep in conversation as they danced. "True, if I've ever met a young lady who could honestly be happy following her husband's regiment – for the proper reasons – it's Margaret Dashwood. She's from a good family too, and her brother's rich as Croesus so she'd probably meet the requirements of the younger son of an earl."

"Lizzy!" Jane gasped with a shocked giggle, "you're beginning to sound like Mama!"

"Heaven forbid!" Lizzy replied in mock indignation. "I believe you began with the matchmaking, I am merely being practical. The Colonel reliably informed me himself once that he could not afford to marry without some attention to money."

"Well, for fear of further comparison to our mother, I shall say no more on the subject," Jane replied serenely, though the glint in her eye revealed her to be highly diverted.

* * *

As the youngest daughter, Margaret Dashwood often loathed comparisons to her elder sisters. She liked to think that she had personality enough to be regarded in her own right, not merely as a watered down version of Marianne or a less-reserved Elinor. But as she went down the line with Colonel Fitzwilliam she couldn't help but analyze her feelings from her sister's points of view.

She had enough of Marianne's sensibility to acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach when he lightly took her hand. He was a nearly perfect specimen for her: He was handsome and dashing and terribly diverting. He had been tested in the field of battle but his stories were practical – none of these glorified accounts of heroism many young men spread around ballrooms. Most importantly, he seemed to actually value her opinions, to listen to her when she talked. Outside of her father, Edward, and Christopher, she had met few men who truly listened to her when she talked.

On the other hand, she had enough of Eleanor's sense to realize that a real courtship with the son of an earl was unlikely. If she were to judge by the cut of his clothing and his shining boots – in this year's style – he lived far outside of his pay from the crown. No, he was still supplemented by his father. Such support would likely disappear if he married and she had not the fortune to make up the deficit. Granted, after his cousin's surprising choice in wife, she doubted his family would react quite as dramatically as Mrs. Ferrars had when Edward affianced himself to a penniless girl, but that could still be a far cry from acceptance.

They were dancing in a set with his cousins. She and Georgiana Darcy had become fast friends on their first meeting when Margaret extracted Miss Darcy from an uncomfortable situation with an overzealous and inebriated gentleman. Although Georgiana was over a year her senior and far her superior in accomplishments, status, and fortune, it was Margaret who took Georgiana under her wing. The poor dear was painfully shy and nearly mute in company when her brother or sister-in-law were not near, so Margaret did her best to put her at her ease. As the set ended Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed and winked at her then offered her his hand.

"I feel so dreadfully nervous every time I dance," Georgiana said quietly as the gentlemen escorted them off of the dance floor."

Margaret inwardly rolled her eyes at her friend, "but what harm could befall you dancing with your brother?"

"I could misstep, or worse, trip and fall," Georgiana said in her quiet voice, "I just feel so very on display."

Margaret did laugh a bit at that, "You and a dozen other women at least, not to mention the men."

"I don't understand how you can be so comfortable with all of this," Georgiana repeated her usual refrain.

"It's simple, I know I'm not important enough for people to take note of, so there's no need to worry," Margaret said with a shrug as they approached Mrs. Darcy and her sister.

"I take note of you Miss. Dashwood," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a wink and that engaging smile. Margaret had to remind herself that he probably says such things to every lady he dances with. Flirtation is just in his nature.

"Of course _you_ do Colonel," Mrs. Darcy said with a saucy smile, "However, you must not say such things, Miss. Dashwood, everyone is important to someone." As if to prove her point, by the time she concluded speaking her husband had made his way to her side and was discretely rubbing small circles on her back. "At any rate, if Mrs. Fanny Dashwood is to be believed, there is no family of greater importance in England than your own," she added with a sardonic smile.

Margaret was aware of the mutual animosity between Mrs. Darcy and Fanny – who had first learned of the Darcy marriage from her friend Caroline Bingley and was sympathetically outraged about such an unequal marriage. "Well, if Fanny had her way, my branch of the Dashwood tree would never have sprouted. She thinks we only exist to rob her son of his rightful inheritance." Margaret said it lightly, but could not entirely keep the bitter note from her voice.

"But surely your brother sees caring for his sisters as his duty. I am certain he would never say such a thing," Mr. Darcy interjected.

Margaret laughed bitterly, "My brother on his own likely would have. In fact he promised my father on his death bed that he would look after us. The estate was entailed to John, you see and as father died rather unexpectedly he was unable to leave much to my mother and sisters. However, in the four years since my father's death, the only financial assistance he's given us was in moving us out of _his_ home and the occasional gift of fish and game. I am quite sure it was Fanny's doing, she established herself as the mistress of Norland the very day my father was laid to rest." As the awkward silence that followed stretched on and the shocked faces of her audience stared mutely back at her Margaret realized that she'd said far to much for a ballroom.

* * *

Elizabeth inwardly seethed at the story. The story so closely followed her own mother's worst fears in life enacted: a widowed mother and her daughters kicked out of her home with little to survive on. Mama's fears had usually pinned on the idea that if she'd only had a son the entail would not matter, but it had never even occurred to Elizabeth that a brother might be so unfeeling towards his sisters – half sisters or no!

Her husband's hand had stopped tracing circles on her back and she could feel his tension. In another sense the story also reflected one she had heard about him: a father's dying wish ignored, a life – or lives – ruined by broken promises. That tale had likewise been told her by the injured party who had every appearance of truth. She could barely conceive of this straightforward girl maliciously inventing such a story against her own brother but she had learned her lesson well. She would seek corroboration, she would not allow her prejudices to lead her astray once more. Sure, Fanny Dashwood was a selfish, grasping, social climber who had disparaged Elizabeth's own unequal marriage, but Elizabeth would still give the cat a chance to explain herself before she took action.

* * *

Notes: I've had the start of this story on my computer for over a year. Listening to the audiobook of S&S last night made me want to revisit it. We'll see where it goes.


	2. Inquiries

"Explain to me again why you think _I_ should do this?" Constance Fitzwilliam, the Countess of Matlock asked as she looked warily across the ballroom to where Mrs. Ferrars and her odious daughter sat holding court.

"Because _duty, honour, and decorum_ require it," Elizabeth replied in a frighteningly accurate impersonation of Lady Catherine DeBourgh. "The woman allegedly cast out a widow and her three daughters before the body cooled then prevented her husband from providing for his sisters. She deserves public censure!"

"It was their property and income to manage," Constance argued sensibly. The Dashwoods wouldn't be the first family to ruthlessly claim an inheritance.

"And that makes it morally acceptable?" The Countess merely raised her eyebrow at her nephew's wife. It's not that she disagreed with the argument itself, rather that she enjoyed seeing the spark in Elizabeth's eyes. She'd had her reservations about the girl at first, but even with her regrettable relations it was hard not to like Elizabeth.

"Alright," Elizabeth reasoned, "you ought to do this because you would like to see Richard finally settle down and give you grandchildren."

"True, but I already have a rather extensive list of prospective brides for my son to choose from," _and Margaret Dashwood certainly isn't among their ranks,_ she added silently.

"And how well has that strategy worked for you so far? You've had ten months since war ended to work on him and how many of your prospects has he shown any interest in?" Elizabeth asked impertinently.

"None," she sighed, "and you're certain her lack of fortune is what's holding him back?"

"Of course not," Elizabeth laughed, "he has not stated it explicitly, but he has shown marked attention to her and they can talk for hours about battles and strategies."

The Countess wasn't entirely sure that was an argument in the young lady's favor, but her son likely considered it so. "And why can you not make the inquiries on your own?" Constance had a nodding acquaintance with Mrs. Ferars, though that lady's eagerness to deepen their relationship was the best inducement to avoid further contact if at all possible.

"Mrs. Fanny Dashwood and I are ... acquainted ... she would be on her guard around me and not be as forthcoming."

"Yes, I can see how you might quarrel," Elizabeth was rather resolute in her crusades and had difficulty holding back her wit when provoked. "I suppose I shall if I must," Constance said with a resigned sigh. "Wait a moment," she'd only taken half a step away before turning back to Elizabeth, "if _you're_ too radical for the part, does that make _me_ the haughty aristocrat?"

"I would never say so myself," Elizabeth replied archly, "but _they_ don't know that. And you outrank them both, so they'll probably assume you agree with their nonsense." The Countess threw a creditable imitation of Elizabeth's challenging eyebrow back at her before transforming her face into the cold, regal mask that she wore in front of society mavens and went about her task.

For all of the quirks and habits Elizabeth had introduced to their family in general, the Countess noted that her new niece had adopted some Darcy mannerisms as well as she positioned herself within earshot of the Ferars ladies facing a mirror that would give her a decent view of the conversation as well.

After she had made the requisite greetings, inquiries and platitudes between two matrons who have known each other far too long, the Countess turned the conversation as close to her goal as she could without being suspiciously direct. She determined it was best to feign ignorance of Miss Dashwood's closer connection to Fanny Dashwood and therefore addressed the mother: "I understand we have something in common, Mrs. Ferars."

"Indeed, Lady Matlock," the grasping woman said with a calculating glint in her eye, "and what pray is that?"

"My youngest son has become rather enamored lately with a Miss Dashwood, I understand that her sister is married to your eldest son."

The older lady's face screwed up as if even the thought of it was sour. "Edward may be my oldest son, but he is no longer my _eldest_," she spat. "I sincerely hope you fare better than I did in guiding your sons into proper marriages. I had all but signed the settlement paperwork for his marriage to the Hon. Miss Morton, only daughter of the late Lord Morton, with thirty thousand pounds. A very desirable connection on both sides, but just as it was about to come off he had to go and defy me in the most insolent manner! Those Dashwood girls want for all they can get!"

The Countess recalled the scandal from several years prior and was well aware that _those Dashwood girls_ were not at fault for Mr. Ferars' ill-advised prior engagement to a low-class country girl, nor for Mr. Robbert Ferars' underhanded elopement with his brother's fiance. It seems Mrs. Edward Ferars' only true crime was accepting him once he was free. She'd thoroughly sympathized with Mrs. Ferars at the time for the poor judgment of both of her sons but now – after she'd seen Elizabeth breathe life into the otherwise painfully shy Darcy siblings – she felt rather ashamed of that reaction. She was also keenly aware that Mr. Edward Ferars remained disinherited while his brother had returned to her favor after his far greater transgressions.

"I sincerely regret ever inviting Edward to Norland," Mrs. John Dashwood interjected, introducing the topic the Countess had been waiting for.

"Oh yes, the Dashwoods are your husband's sisters, are they not?"

_"Half sisters,_" she snapped, "related to him only by half blood, which is no relationship at all!"

"It must have been very hard to inherit Mr. Dashwood's second family along with the estate," she feigned sympathy, though the woman's callous response made her skin crawl.

"Oh! You have no idea, Lady Matlock! They stayed with us for several months before finally taking the hint and taking themselves off elsewhere."

"I understand that it may be difficult to make such arrangements while in full mourning, but I'm certain that by the time you'd installed yourself as mistress ought to have had sufficient notice to manage."

"As to that," Mrs. Ferars said, "I advised Fanny to go down to Norland as soon as possible. You know how people like that are, if you give them three months to 'mourn' in peace either they'll think they can stay forever or you'll arrive to find they've gone off with the silver."

Mrs. John Dashwood nodded emphatically. "Indeed they still took the nicer set of china when they left, even though I did arrive as soon after the funeral as decorum would allow and made a point to go over the inventories."

"They _stole_ from the household?" Constance asked incredulously.

"Well no, it was from a stock of plate they'd brought with them to Norland after they'd sold the other furnishings from their previous residence, but it was far handsomer than the plate that belonged to the estate and far too fine for their style of life at Barton Cottage, but it was all left to her and thus she took it!" She huffed like a child who likes another girl's doll better. "Old Mr. Dashwood would have left almost everything in the world to THEM if he could. Do you know my dear husband was nearly ready to give _half_ my own son's inheritance away to them because his father made him make a silly promise on his deathbed to take care of them."

"Surely not half," the Countess said, unable to keep the disbelief and disapproval entirely out of her voice.

Apparently Mrs. John Dashwood wasn't terribly clever as she seemed to direct that disapproving tone toward Old Mr. Dashwood and not herself. "Perhaps not quite half, but if not for my timely intervention he would have had his solicitor draw up settlements or an annuity or something of the kind."

"Don't get me started on annuities!" Mrs. Ferars said with a long-suffering cry, "people always live for ever when there is an annuity to be paid them. An annuity is a very serious business; it comes over and over every year, and there is no getting rid of it. I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; I was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my husband's will, I found it exceedingly disagreeable. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My income was not my own with such perpetual claims on it.

The Countess looked between the two in some amazement. She'd thought she'd known what to expect walking into this conversation, but these two seemed more like caricatures of avarice than ladies with families. "Surely you were able to convince him of a more reasonable sum, a modest dowry perhaps?"

"Ah, I see where you are leading my dear Lady Matlock," Mrs. Ferars said with a laugh and a sly look, "you are casting about for information on Miss Dashwood's dowry. Well, I am sorry to inform you that the girl is entirely unsuitable for the younger son of an Earl. Poor as a church mouse."

"Not so, mother, she will have about three thousand pounds on their mother's death – a very comfortable fortune for any young woman ... so long as she sets her sights within her own sphere ... since they live so modestly there was no need for us to bleed ourselves dry on their account," Mrs. John Dashwood said – apparently unaware of the irony as she lifted one bejeweled hand to adjust the ivory comb in her hair.

"Yes, do take my advice, Lady Matlock," Mrs. Ferars said in a confidential tone, "you'd do far better to advise your son against the match. Especially as your family has already had that recent disappointment with your nephew's unfortunate marriage. I think you'll agree it's best to have the distinction of rank preserved from here out."

Lady Matlock did her best to reign in her indignation at their hypocrisy – as if the planned marriage between Mr. Edward Ferars and the Honorable Miss Morton wouldn't have transversed rank distinctions – "May I presume, then, that your husband fulfilled his promise by providing lodging and other necessities then? Perhaps a dower house or some other accommodation in lieu of financial assistance."

"Oh," either Mrs. John Dashwood finally developed a modicum of shame or she simply didn't appreciate being called out on her greed because after a pause she stammered out: "No ... In the end, John decided that occasional gifts were a far more suitable means of fulfilling his promise to his father ... They chose to move to Devonshire ... can you imagine how awkward it would be to continue in the same neighborhood but in reduced circumstances? ... I believe her cousin Sir John Middleton rather dotes on them. They are all very comfortable where they are, you see."

"Yes, I understand you perfectly well," the Countess said coldly, "If you'll excuse me." She turned on her heel and stalked to Elizabeth. If nothing else she now had a perfectly solid reason to give Mrs. Ferars the cut direct in future, the way she'd said 'Lady Matlock' whenever she addressed her had always given her a sense of unease.

"Well!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she approached, she had obviously heard the entire exchange and her look of righteous indignation was already fixed on her face.

Lady Matolock nodded then both turned to look at the vicious pair, "do your worst, they certainly have already done enough damage of their own."


	3. An Anxious Interlude

As Fitzwilliam Darcy closed the door to their bedchamber he closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. He had never been overly fond of crowded rooms, dancing, or society and therefore a ball had never been his preferred mode of passing an evening. Thanks to Elizabeth, last season had been a vast improvement over all of its predecessors. He was no longer hounded by fortune hunters or matchmaking mamas, he had the pleasure of introducing his brilliant wife to the ton, and he always had the pleasure of dancing with her to look forward to. This season the dynamic had shifted again. The fortune hunters had been replaced by merry widows who assumed he would be in need of _comfort_, Elizabeth was now well acquainted with their set and no longer needed his introductions, and though _she_ couldn't dance the hostesses still expected _him_ to do so.

The baby was a blessing in so many ways – he _knew_ this – but Elizabeth's condition did make the social waters that much choppier for him at the present. In frantic moments of social anxiety, he found himself hoping that Georgiana would find a husband this season so that Elizabeth and him could just retreat to Pemberley and never go through this torment again. But rationally he wanted Georgiana to find a love match and would not risk her happiness with haste. Alas, even if Georgiana found her perfect match next week, Elizabeth was a social creature and she would never be happy with a life of seclusion. Knowing that he would do anything to secure his wife's happiness, he resigned himself to the prospect of many vexing social engagements in the future.

He opened his eyes and watched as Elizabeth deftly removed the pins from her hair with practiced fingers. He watched eagerly as the chestnut locks cascaded down her back, the warm glow of the candlelight adding to their sheen. The now familiar ache of love and longing for her that he'd so resented in those early days at Netherfield warmed his heart. She hummed lightly as she casually progressed through her evening routine, unaware that she appeared to her husband as his own personal goddess. He smiled tenderly as he remembered that even with such heavy misfortunes as balls and idle conversation with insipid people to contend with, as Elizabeth's husband he would always have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to his situation, that he could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.

When her soothing hum morphed into a groan and her hand clutched her stomach he hurried to her side. "Elizabeth, what is the matter?" He asked, hovering nervously.

She smiled up at him and replied archly, "nothing terribly out of order, Mr. Darcy, merely your heir making his presence known." She took his hand and placed it on the small, mobile protrusion on her abdomen.

"Nonsense, Mrs. Darcy," he replied in kind, "it appears to me that it's your daughter expressing her desire for a long walk." This lighthearted projection of their own attributes onto their unborn child had become a mainstay of their daily banter and usually elicited laughter from his wife. Today, to his horror, her face crumpled and she began to cry. He sank to his knees beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Lizzie, darling, whatever is the matter?"

"What if ..." she sniffled and looked up, trying to reign in her tears "... what if this is a girl, Fitzwilliam?"

"Lizzie, that is my fondest wish," he said, cupping her cheek.

She nodded and took a shuddering breath, "I know that you would cherish our daughter, but ... but what if I am like my mother? What if I only give birth to girls and with every pregnancy your hopes of a son dwindle?"

"Elizabeth, you are my favorite person on this earth, so I can think of far worse fates than to end up with an army of tiny facsimiles of yourself ordering me about," he said truthfully.

"Even if we end up with a Lydia in the mix?" She asked nervously.

"I assure you I would love them all, even if we had a Lydia _and_ a Kitty in the mix."

She laughed and kissed the top of his head. The moment of peace was brief before she sighed into his hair, "but what about your heir? ... What about Pemberley and the Darcy line?"

"The Darcy line can be passed through my daughters. There is no entail and, contrary to what your mother may brag to her neighbors, we are not nobility. In the absence of sons our daughters would still be well provided for, the estate and holdings would pass to the female line, and they would want for nothing."

"Promise?" She asked in a small voice that was so unlike his vibrant wife's usual tone that it broke his heart.

"I promise my love."

"I'm sorry I'm being so silly. I think this whole matter with Margaret Dashwood has stirred up some old anxieties that have been drilled into me my whole life." Not for the first time Darcy wished he could box his mother-in-law's ears for all of the nonsense she'd inflicted on her daughters.

"From what I understand, Colonel Brandon and Mr. Ferrars are good men. I doubt she'll have too much grief even if her brother and sister in law are vile." He stood up and removed his pocket watch.

"I know," Elizabeth sniffed, "but it's the principle of it that bothers me. You were once so offended that I believed you would go against your father's will and disinherit Wickham that you broke all bounds of propriety to write me a letter and clear your name. If it is, as you say, a _depravity_ of such magnitude, how can we let Mr. Dashwood go on his merry way without facing any consequences? How can such men survive socially unscathed when a moderate breeze can ruin a woman's reputation."

"You have a fair point, my dear," he said as he stripped off his cravat.

"Would you inquire of him about it?" She asked hopefully, as she stood. "We've heard Miss Margaret's side of the story and I've heard Mrs. Dashwood's account, but it's possible that Mr. Dashwood has quietly provided for his sisters without either their or his wife's knowledge."

"It'd hardly be proper to confront a man like that," he said with a frown.

"Less proper than writing a letter to an unmarried lady who had just vehemently rejected your marriage proposal?"

"You will never allow me to forget that breach in decorum will you?"

"How could I when you were so chivalrous in writing it," she said as she slid her palms up his chest, "and it played so great a role in my altered affections?"

"When you put it that way," he said as he leaned in to kiss his wife.

She pulled back at the last moment, "so you'll speak to Mr. Dashwood? For me?" She asked expectantly, "for the alternate universe where _I_ was the unprotected dowerless girl just wishing that _someone_ would come to my rescue?"

"Oh alright," he huffed. He could never resist Lizzy for long, especially when she was looking at him with those eyes and painting him as her hero, "I'll stop in at White's tomorrow and see if I can track him down." He was rewarded for this sacrifice by an excited squeal as she engulfed him in a loving embrace.


	4. A More Gentlemanlike Manner

Darcy entered the building with a mild sneer. He'd been a member of White's since he'd come of age and had therefore never had cause to enter such a mediocre establishment. The interior looked respectable enough, though he recognized few of the gentlemen socializing within. It didn't take him long to locate Mr. John Dashwood seated by the fire reading a newspaper. While Darcy was generally loathe to interact with those he'd had little exposure to, he'd made a promise to his wife that he intended to keep.

"Mr. Dashwood," he cleared his throat and the man in question folded down a corner of his newspaper.

"Mr. Darcy, it's a pleasure to see you, sir," he said, tripping over himself to gain Darcy's favor.

"May I have a word?" The sentence was structured as a question, but he immediately sat in the chair opposite before Mr. Dashwood had a chance to respond. Elizabeth had given him express permission, bordering on a command, to fall back into his former haughty behavior for this particular interaction.

"Of course, how can I be of use."

"I have recently become acquainted with your sister, Miss Margaret Dashwood. I believe that she has become quite good friends with my sister Georgiana."

"Goodness, is little Margaret out already!" Mr. Dashwood replied genially. "Now that you mention it, I suppose Fanny did mention that she was in town. Sadly, she had already invited some friends of hers to visit so we could not host Margaret this season."

"Surely you couldn't have missed your own sister's coming-out?" Darcy asked in exasperation. The commotion from their wedding had scarcely settled the previous year before the fuss over preparations for both his sister and wife to make their official debuts.

"Oh," Mr. Dashwood looked somewhat confused for a moment. "Well. Fanny and I leave all of that up to her mother, of course. I had very little to do with the process. Perhaps I ought to pay a call and say hello now that we've all settled in."

"You surely noticed the expense of it," Darcy led, "having recently brought out my own sister, I can empathize about the dressmaker's bills."

"Oh yes! Well, that is," he again looked momentarily bewildered, "I'm certain that it was an expense for _somebody_ though thankfully not for myself."

"Excuse me, sir," Darcy said with steel in his voice, "are you not her brother? Her nearest male relative?"

"Of course, but she is her mother's charge after all," he swallowed. "And there is of course Colonel Brandon you know, he has two thousand a-year. Edward isn't in much of a position to do much – he lost his mother's favor, you know, due to some unfortunate business – but still."

"You are content, then, to allow her brothers-in-law to fulfill your own duty to your sister?"

"I dare say Colonel Brandon is in a far better position than I at the moment to aid Margaret and her mother. You would think that coming into my father's property would have been a boon to our fortunes, but it has been nothing but unforseen expenses for the last five years complete! I do not mean to complain, however; it is undoubtedly a comfortable income, and I hope will in time be better. The enclosure of Norland Common, was a most serious drain. And then I have made a little purchase of land that was so very desirable for me in every respect, so immediately adjoining my own property, that I felt it my duty to buy it. I could not have answered it to my conscience to let it fall into any other hands. A man must pay for his convenience; and it HAS cost me a vast deal of money."

When Darcy did not fill his pause with assent and compassion Mr. Dashwood continued on. "Other great and inevitable expenses too we have had on first coming to Norland. My respected father bequeathed all the Stanhill effects that remained at Norland (and very valuable they were) to his wife. Far be it from me to repine at his doing so; he had an undoubted right to dispose of his own property as he chose, but, in consequence of it, we have been obliged to make large purchases of linen, china, &c. to supply the place of what was taken away. There was also considerable work done to the grounds and gardens. You may guess, after all these expenses, how very far we must be from being rich.

"These all seem to be the commonplace expenses for any gentleman and landowner, what makes your income so stringent that renders you unable to do your duty to your sister?"

"I wouldn't say it was my _duty,_ she is only a half sister after all."

"Forgive me if I was misinformed, but I was under the impression that you had promised your father that you would look after his wife and daughters when he was no longer able to do so."

"Oh," Mr. Dashwood gaped for a moment at that, "of ... of course he did ask me to make them comfortable, but he was barely coherent by the time I arrived. He asked nothing specific of me."

"His last wish was that you take care of his family and you did not do so because he was not perfectly coherent on his deathbed? I cannot see how much room for interpretation there could be, sir," Darcy said with a stony anger.

"I did think, at first, of settling some money on each of them – a modest dowry you know – but then my wife prudently reminded me that any sum I settled on them would come out of my own son's inheritance and I could not conscience it."

"And is your son's inheritance so small that he could not accommodate his aunts? I understand you had your own inheritance from your mother and your own wife's dowry on top of the Norland income."

"True, true," his brow furrowed in thought, "and yet it hardly seemed fair to limit little Henry's future for my half sisters. To draw his entire fortune from my mother and wife's dowries seemed paltry for a young man to set up his establishment."

"And where were your sisters to draw their fortunes from without a dowry."

"We reasoned that with how simple their lives would be, a dowry would not be at all necessary for them. Not all men are concerned with such things – as I believe you are a prime example. Indeed, Maryann and Elinor found suitable husbands without, and Elinor would never have met Edward had we not invited him to Norland."

"While it is certain that honorable men of independent means may marry where they choose, it seems rather a gamble to hope for such fortune three times over. Tell me, how significant was your wife's dowry in your choice?"

* * *

"I say, I am not some mercenary!" John Dashwood puffed his chest up in indignation, "I married my wife out of affection, thank you."

"And would you have made the same decision had she no fortune?" Mr. Darcy pressed on.

"Well ..." John took a moment to consider. It was true that he did love Fanny and had loved her before their marriage, but it was her dowry that had first drawn his interest. "There was no guarantee of Norland at that time, and a man must live on something, after all."

"That same logic applies to women as well."

John felt a slight pang of regret. "My sisters were at no danger of starvation. Their mother has quite a sufficient fortune to supply them with modest accommodations and the necessities. In the end I decided that occasional presents of fish and game, and so forth was more in the spirit of my father's wishes."

"I see," Mr. Darcy said coldly, "and how frequent have these _occasional_ presents been given?"

"I ..." John paused and looked back but could not produce a single example, "well, I had every intention of doing so but then they moved so far away to Devonshire and made such efforts impractical. I believe that Sir. John Middleton, Mrs. Dashwood's distant cousin, frequently supplies them with such gifts."

_"Distant_ cousin," Mr. Darcy tutted, "another man on whom you've passed your duties, I see. May I presume, at least, that you've granted your aid in other ways? Did you search them out a suitable property? Given them smaller sums, or furnishings to make their lives more comfortable perhaps?" Mr. Darcy paused expectantly, but as he could not in good faith answer any of these questions in the positive he thought it prudent to remain silent.

"Considering you'd forgotten that Miss Margaret had made her debut, I can scarcely hope that you've done your part to promote your sisters in society? Hosted them in London? Thrown balls in their honor? Invited them to dine?"

"We did invite Elinor and Maryanne to dine!" John interjected, happy to have a positive response at last. "We wanted to promote Elinor's attachment to Colonel Brandon and ..."

"Elinor?" Mr. Darcy cut him off, "I thought that your sister Elinor was married to Mr. Ferrars and your sister _Maryanne_ was married to Colonel Brandon."

"Yes, well," John sputtered, unsure how much to explain, "at the time my mother in law was eager to minimize any attachment ... well ... we thought it best to divert Elinor's affections elsewhere. Mrs. Ferrars had nearly finished negotiations to unite Edward with the Hon. Miss Morton and Elinor would bring neither fortune nor rank to her marriage."

"I had heard that Mrs. Ferrars disapproved of the match between your eldest sister and her eldest son, but I had presumed that your fraternal loyalty would have fallen with Miss Elinor, particularly since her lack of dowry was of your doing."

"You don't seem to understand the relationships between women if that's your view, I had no choice but to take my wife's side." John said, recalling Fanny's proclamations on the subject.

"I beg your pardon, but I believe I understand you perfectly. I myself have been my sister's guardian since she was ten years of age. I have loved her and put her own needs before my own for nearly a decade. I could never countenance your callous disregard for your sisters futures. I further understand that my own wife and sister have become fast friends and live together rather harmoniously. If asked, I am certain that neither Elizabeth nor Georgiana would place their own comfort and ambitions over the future happiness and well-being of the other. However, if, somehow, my wife attempted to displace my sister in any way, I certainly would never have stepped in line with her. At one time, perhaps, I could have understood your rationalizations regarding class, but I could never understand or respect such gross negligence of familial duty."

"I say!" John said in anger, ready to defend himself. Unfortunately, no suitable defense came to mind in light of the look of abject disdain radiating off of his companion.

"A wise woman was once forced me to see my own flaws and her words have haunted me since. I believe they apply to you, perhaps, even more than they did to me. "From the very beginning of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, and were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built an immovable dislike. Those words changed my life and guided my own reform, I suggest you listen to them and take heed. I cannot see you maintaining your standing in society unless you learn to behave in a more gentlemanlike manner!"

John sat there in stunned silence as Mr. Darcy stood and stalked away from him. It's true that he had swayed from his initial plan to settle some money on his sisters, but Fanny's arguments had been so persuasive. He truly had planned on giving some non-financial aid to his sisters, but their mother had taken them so far out of the way. He _had_ proposed to Fanny that they host his sisters in London, it wasn't his fault that each time he'd done so Fanny had already made plans with others.

He wasn't quite certain how he'd gone from quietly enjoying a paper to receiving a dressing down from the illustrious Mr. Darcy. He may not be the brightest man, but he was capable of understanding the parting threat that gentleman had made. He could only hope that Mr. Darcy's own radical marriage had tainted his view and that society in general would see the logic of his own actions.

* * *

Notes: A quick internet search was only giving me the names of White's, Brooks's, Boodle's, and Wattier's as general gentleman's clubs and the other clubs they mentioned were based around specific things(Beaf-steak, Athenium, Four-in Hand etc). I didn't want John Dashwood to be a member of one of the top exclusive clubs to highlight his social inferiority to Darcy but I couldn't find lists of clubs that were lower on the hierarchy. If you've got suggestions for mediocre Regency-era gentlemen's clubs, I'm open to them.


End file.
